This is not a cry for help.

No, but do you know how easily everything would go ?

I could reach over and grab the shards of a broken mirror.

I could tentatively set it on my wrist, tightly grip it and-

How would it be? Would they grieve, and then leave?

The funeral service will be it and then what?

They'll go on.

But it's sad, because I'll always be scared of death.

And of a god that never answered my prayer.